Challenging Authority
by Shadow's Interceptor
Summary: An elf is having trouble with a couple of reindeer and she grabs a 'volunteer' to help her. Bernard's in it. Post SC3. Rating for corse language, nothing bad, just mild cussing. Currently on indefinete hold. Sorry everyone.
1. Tall, Pissed, and Curley

_Okay. You all know I'm an RPG fanatic with my obsession centering on FFIV-VII with a dash of Suikoden Tierkreis thrown in for good measure. But I also have another addiction. It's. It's. Alright, I'll just say it._

_ Hello, my name is Shadow's Interceptor and I am a Christmas Addict._

_ There you go. DON'T JUDGE ME! Yes, I'm in college. Yes, I'm over eighteen. Yes, I am obsessed with the old (best) Christmas movies like Rudolph, The Year without a Santa Clause, Jack Frost, Santa Clause is Coming to Town . . . I also enjoy the Santa Clause movies. Hence my reading of Santa Clause fanfics. Hence my random idea for this fic. _

_ I dedicate this fic to all those who are my age and are Christmas addicts like myself. That is why my writing style will be similar to that in the later chapters in Of Sketchpads and Shadows. Mild cussing, nothing huge. _

_ I do not own the Santa Clause or the characters from it. I do own Eileen and her team. I also make no money from this fanfic. If you have paid for it, be assured that the person you paid will be on the Naughty list this Christmas._

She was tired, wet, cold, and miserable from the trip in to the Pole. And of course, her two largest deer _had_ to decide that _now_ was the time to act like unbroken calves and cause a ruckus on their way into the stables. The thoroughly frustrated elf had a tight grip on the near reindeer's headstall, but could do nothing about the off animal, who was swinging his hindquarters about, kicking at nearby snowdrifts, and jerking his head with its massive set of antlers higher and higher.

They weren't scared. But everything was so different, so bright, so much energy, that it made the animals feel frisky and, in these two's case, like testing their handler's authority. The three pairs she had brought into the stable previously had not been this difficult! Her lead animals had thrown their heads up a bit and looked around, but other than that had followed her docilely. Out of her two middle pairs, only one had caused her any trouble, her high strung, but fast female had spooked when one of the elves rushing around in the square had dropped a bag of something that clattered and clanked when it fell. But this was understandable, and easily dealt with. She had paired that female with the oldest, and calmest of the team for a reason! The presence of the unflappable older animal had calmed the shaken one quickly and that pair gave her no further trouble.

The off deer suddenly dug all four hooves into the snow, jerking her, and the near animal to a stop. He flung his head back and started a jerking hop with his forelegs.

"Git up, Avalanche!" she yelled. The big male ignored her. His twin, the one whose headstall she held, made as if to fling his head high too.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, giving a warning jerk on the halter. He immediately bowed his head and stood still, a look of embarrassed shame on his long face.

"Git up!" she tried again, "Blizzard, Avalanche, git up!" Blizzard took a few steps forward. Avalanche did not. Instead, he reared up on his hind legs and pawed the air.

_Dang it_, she cursed inwardly_, if only I could get his bloody head down!_ But with her control over the pair as limited as it was, she did not feel comfortable letting Blizzard's headstall go while she moved to get his obnoxious brother. _Is there someone else who_ . . .

She looked around at the crowd of elves in the square, searching for anyone who would be tall enough to reach the big deer's halter and strong enough to drag him down. But everyone who was even close to the right size was busy with something or other, rushing off with hands full to this or that part of Santa's workshop or wherever the heck it was that the work got done at the Pole. Except for one. He was exceptionally tall, a few inches taller than her even, and his hands were empty. Sure, he was stalking off somewhere with a decidedly sour look on his face and the look of an elf on a mission, but right now that didn't matter.

"Hey!" she yelled, "Hey you!" The elf didn't even glance in her direction. Avalanche had returned to the ground, but was now swinging his hindquarters around and jogging in place, smashing his body into his tethered partner. Much longer and both reindeer would have decide they had enough and begin bucking. And once both of them got out of control . . . She didn't even want to think what would happen in a crowded area like this. Reindeer were big, much bigger than elves, and these two were the biggest and the strongest she had come across in her 500 years of working with the animals.

Letting her temper and nerves get the better of her, she roared over the crowd, "HEY! TALL, PISSED, AND CURLEY! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Her shout effectively stopped all activity in the square. Had it not been for the pounding hooves on snow and creaking of harness leather, one could have heard a snowflake fall. No one moved. No one spoke. Everyone stared. And the elf, the one she had dubbed Tall, Pissed, and Curley, turned around slowly. His narrow features were contorted into an expression something between shock and fury. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"Get over here and grab this stupid fellow's halter!"

If there were any shut jaws in the place, it was safe to say that they dropped then. Tall, Pissed, and Curley drew himself up to his full height and glared at her from across the square.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked in an irate tone.

Avalanche had started to toss his head around again, and Blizzard was beginning to dance in place despite her warning jerks on the halter. Taking out her frustration on the unhelpful elf, she bellowed, "I don't care if you're the freakin' head elf! Just get over here and GET HIS BLOODY HEAD DOWN!"

To her relief, Tall, Pissed, and Curley followed her orders, if somewhat reluctantly. Coming up beside Avalanche's shoulder, he reached forward and snagged the large animal's headstall. The big deer turned his head to stare at the unfamiliar elf with an incredulous eye. He tossed his head experimentally. The elf kept hold of the leather, but allowed the big animal to toss his head.

"Give it a jerk," she ordered, "Don't let him screw around." She demonstrated when Blizzard looked as if he was beginning a head toss. The next time Avalanche flung his head up, Tall, Pissed, and Curley jerked it down, effectively letting the reindeer know exactly who was in control.

Suddenly, Tall, Pissed, and Curley seemed to realize that they were still being watched.

"Get back to work!" he yelled to the other elves, who were standing around, staring gape mouthed at them. The flurry of activity resumed, although quite a bit more frantic than it had been before.

She decided that it was time to give her unwilling assistant some more orders. "When I tell this one to 'git up' you do the same to yours. His name is Avalanche. Keep hold of him, and walk him into the stables. I'll set the pace." Tall, Pissed, and Curley nodded, even though his face was formed into an awful grimace. She thought (correctly) that he was thinking about how he had better things to do than drag around some large uncooperative reindeer and take orders from an elf he had never met.

"Git up Blizard," she yelled and simultaneously jerked the deer's halter forward.

"Git up Avalanche," he said, with slightly less force.

Together, they walked the two deer towards the stable. She continued to shout orders at him, like, "Keep his bloody head down!" and "Don't walk so dang close or he's gonna step on you." or "Didn't I tell you to keep his bloody head DOWN!" They made it the fifty yards to the stable and _finally_ entered the large airy building. Tugging the pair down to the nearest set of cross ties, she wasted no time in hooking up Blizzard's halter. When he was secure, she dashed between the two deer and unhooked the connecting piece between their harnesses.

Now, she could have taken Avalanche from her unwitting assistant and allowed him to go on his way. But as it was, she wanted nothing more than to find the quarters that Santa had assigned to her and settle down for a long winter's nap (it was always winter at the pole, you couldn't have any other kind of long nap) as quickly as possible. So she decided to use him for a little longer.

"You see those ties?" she asked as she pointed to a set of cross ties further down the aisle.

"Yes," he answered.

"Good, hitch him up like I did Blizzard and start taking his tack off."

"What? But I-" he started to sputter.

She fixed him with one of her angry death glares that could scare the fur off a polar bear. "Just do it."

Deciding that messing with the obviously short tempered female was not in his best interests, Tall, Pissed, and Curley did as she said, leading Avalanche, who had calmed down significantly, away and cross tying him in the aisle.

"Now just do what I do," she told him as she started to unbuckle and remove the simple leather harness. He watched her, then, with fumbling fingers, copied her actions with Avalanche's tack. Soon both deer were standing 'naked' in the aisle and their harnesses had been neatly (in one case) and not so neatly (in the other) hung on hooks beside six other identical sets of leather trappings.

Tall, Pissed, and Curley opened his mouth to say something, but she quickly interrupted him, "You're not done yet."

Pulling a stiff bristled brush from a coat pocket, she tossed it to him. He caught it, barely, and looked at it with a blank expression of confusion.

She sighed; did this fool know nothing about reindeer?

"Brush him down," she ordered. When he looked at her incredulously, she gave him more explicit directions, "Start at the neck and move down. Go with the hair, using short, fast strokes. When you're done with one side, do the same on the other."

When he opened his mouth again, she growled at him, "And don't complain. The faster you get this done, the faster I'll let you leave." His jaw snapped shut and he offered her a death glare to rival her own. But he got to work. After a quick looting of another grooming box (she was sure Prancer wouldn't mind his dandy brush being borrowed), she got to work as well.

They finished about the same time, despite Tall, Pissed, and Curley having started before her. After returning the brush she had borrowed to its box, she reached up and unhooked Blizzard from the cross ties. She motioned for Tall, Pissed, and Curley to do the same. He did, and took Avalanche gingerly by the halter.

"They go in those two stalls on the end, across from the male with the scar on his neck and the one with an irregular grey star between his antlers." She led Blizzard down and into his stall, while Tall, Pissed, and Curley did the same with Avalanche, leading him to the next stall down. She removed Blizzard's halter and ruffled the big animal's thick mane as he investigated his surroundings. Stepping out of the stall, she shut the door and slammed the bolt home. Next to her, Tall, Pissed, and Curley had done the same thing with Avalance, minus the mane ruffling and with considerably more nerves.

Hanging the halter on a peg outside the stall, she finally allowed herself to relax. She leaned herself against the stall door and closed her eyes to listen to the sounds of her contented team. Someone cleared his throat nearby, and she opened her eyes. Darn it all, she had forgotten that he was still here.

Pushing herself off the door, she strode over too where he stood. Wiping her grimy hand on her equally grimy pants before offering it to him to shake was a useless, but courteous gesture in her opinion.

"Name's Eileen, call me Lee. I'm handler of the new team. Who're you?"

Tall, Pissed, and Curley looked her over from head to toe. Then he did it again. And again. Her hand stayed empty, suspended in the air between them. He stared her in the eye. She didn't blink. Neither did he. Then, miraculously, as most elves who knew him would say, the corner of his mouth turned up in a weird half smirk half sarcastic smile.

"I'm the freakin' head elf."

_ So, this could be a one shot, or it could be something more. Reviewers will make or break it! You want more? Let me know. Review! _

_So sorry for you non-horsey people reading this. I used a lot of horse terms when referring to the reindeer. Okay, short vocab lesson: Near=Left, Off=Right, Dandy brush=a stiff bristled brush used to remove dirt and loose hair, Tack=harness, saddle, bridle, etc, To Spook=to react in fear, often by bolting or attempting to bolt, Headstall=part of a halter. And yes, reindeer do have manes, it is the thick fur around their neck, more like a lion's mane than a horse's. _


	2. Arguments and Insults

_Well, this was unexpected. This story has not only gotten nearly as many hits as my largest, most popular story Of Sketchpads and Shadows, but has received more reviews than any single chapter of any of my other stories. Never knew that that Santa Clause had such an active fandom . . ._

_ Thanks to __**Lucky-erin47**__, __**Nicole, jessica, Illyria Lives, **__and __**TTCyclone**__for the nice reviews. And don't be afraid to leave signed reviews, I always respond to signed reviews with a smile and an answer to any questions you might have. I don't bite. ___

___I do not own The Santa Clause or its characters. But Eileen and her team are my original creations. I also make no money from this fanfic, if you have paid for it, I'm sure Santa will give the person you paid a nice stocking full of coal for Christmas._

*&*&*&*&

_Oh, frostbite_, the scruffy reindeer handler thought as she stared at Tall, Pissed, and Curley. _The freakin' head elf! Frostbite with a side of hypo-freakin'-thermia!_

Even though she was ranting and cussing inside her head, Lee kept her facial features calm, allowing her eyes to widen slightly, but nothing more. She expected that ordering the head elf around like a stable hand was not the best way to start one's career at the Pole, but she wasn't about to let him know that she was worried. Nonchalantly withdrawing her still empty hand from the space between them, she rested her elbow on the top Avalanche's stall wall, taking up a relaxed, devil may care sort of pose.

"Does the freakin' head elf have a name or shall I continue to call you Tall, Pissed, and Curley?"

Okay, so baiting the head elf probably wasn't a good way to start off one's career at the Pole either, but at least it accomplished what she set out to do. Clearly not expecting this kind of retort, Tall, Pissed, and Curley's eyebrows shot up and his jaw started to drop, but quickly clenched shut. Now _she_ was in control of the situation.

"Well," she said with wicked smirk, "better tell me fast, 'cause I'm just about ready to go find somewhere to crash for the next eight hours or so."

"Bernard," he finally sputtered, still glaring at her with a mix of shock and anger.

Not a bad name. Certainly better than _Eileen_. Making sure to keep her features grinning, and not betraying the tiredness that was threatening to make her fall asleep right then and there, she remarked in a casual tone, "So, since you're head elf, you wouldn't happen to know where the apartment I'm supposed to have is, would you?"

Bernard didn't believe it. He didn't believe it! This newcomer has the audacity to order him around like he was only 400, then refuse to respect his hard earned title, THEN grill him for information! It was unbelievable! The impertinence!

When he answered her, his voice was almost a snarl, "I _would_ have known, if I hadn't been forced to help _someone_ with a couple of obviously ill trained reindeer!"

Lee pushed herself off the wall and glared up at him, "Well I'm sorry if I was concerned with the well being of the rest of the elfin community! Do you know how much damage a couple of rowdy fellows like them could have caused?"

"No," he sneered, "All the reindeer I've ever encountered have had proper training."

"All the reindeer you've encountered have lived in the Pole all their lives!" she yelled.

"So? What does that have to do with their training? And their," he motioned to the stalls containing Avalanche and Blizzard, "lack of it."

Lee's eyes bulged. This idiot _did_ know nothing about reindeer. "You try going from living out on the tundra where you can see sky 24/7 to coming down into a freakin' ice cave and going from seeing, at the most, ten elves in a day to seeing OVER ONE HUNDRED less than an hour! Not to mention the buildings, noise, lights, and everything else about this crazy town! I'd bet my coat that you'd be acting a bit overwhelmed too!"

She never got to hear what the now irate head elf would have answered. Avalanche, apparently tired of being insulted, reached his head over the stall wall and neatly grabbed the back of Bernard's thick coat in his teeth. With a jerk of his head he lifted the struggling head elf off the ground and held him there. Spurred on by encouraging bellows from the rest of his team and Lee's laughter, he swung his head back and forth a few times, shaking Bernard around like a dog would shake a bone.

Bernard, realizing that struggling was getting him nowhere, stopped moving and hung limply from the big reindeer's mouth. If the scruffy team master's apparent enjoyment of the situation was any indication, he doubted that she would entertain the thought of helping him out. But it was worth a try.

Trying his best not to sound like he was begging, Bernard asked, "Can you tell him to put me down?"

"Don't think so," she wheezed through her laughter.

Bernard sighed, trying to hold back his temper (and his pride). "Please?"

Again she shook her head. "I like you there," she said with a grin, "Don't you fellas?" she shouted to the rest of her team. The reindeer bellowed their approval and Avalanche (his mouth being too full of coat to make any noise) bobbed his head up and down, further shaking Bernard.

It was the laughter of that scruffy elf, _and_ the amused bellows of her reindeer that made something behind Bernard's calm façade snap. . .

"Why you insubordinate, no good, tactless, in-bred hick of an elf! When I get down I'll-"

And that was how Santa and Curtis found the handler of the new reindeer team, sprawled on the ground between rows of bellowing reindeer, laughing uproariously at the normally authoritative head elf suspended a foot above the floor by a large reindeer and spewing a string of insults and threats that would make a child's ear burn.

*&*&*&*&*&*&

_Okay, kinda short, but this seemed like such a good place to end! _

_ I know, in the movies the reindeer aren't big enough to lift Bernard off the ground. But Avalanche and Blizzard are BIG. The rest of Lee's team is about the same size as the original team, but Avalanche and Blizzard unusually large. Think Clydesdale vs. Irish Hunter. They are the "wheel" deer and have to be big and strong._

_ And I've got nothing against the name Eileen, I actually like it. But keeping with Lee's character, she's not one for girly, fancy stuff, hence her dislike of her full name._

_ Review?_


	3. Sugar Cookies and Floppy Hats

_Okay, I'm a bad, bad author. I've left this story go for way too long without an update . . . sorry. Surprisingly, this darling actually has a bit of a plot. A plot that will be introduced in a little while yet, not sure how long, three, four chaps maybe? Not sure. First I have to injure Bernard . . . wait, did I say anything about injuring Bernard? Don't listen, it's just the deranged ramblings of a fan abusing author who doesn't update her stories and is hyped up on a combination of after Christmas nerves and wacky Irish music. Do you hear me, DO NOT LISTEN!_

_ A huge thanks to all the great reviews from __**Emily, 99times, IAmYourPhobia, XxXAlways-a-DreamerXxX, Lucky-erin47, Nicole, **__and__** TTCycloneB! **__You guys are awesome!_

_ I do not own The Santa Clause or its characters, if I did guess who would have kicked Frost's butt in the third movie??? If you guessed Mr. Tall, Pissed, and Curley, give yourself a candy cane! I also make no money from this fanfic, if you have paid for it, I suggest you try and get your money back as soon as possible._

*&*&*&*&

The tall, dark haired elf focused his permanent glare on the back of his employers triple X sized red and white reindeer patterned sweater. Reindeer. Always reindeer. The darn animals were starting to haunt him!

"Santa, tell me again why I need to watch this?" he grumbled.

"Because, Bernard," Santa said with what could only be described as a mischievous grin, "You are the head elf, and as head elf you should supervise such an important occasion. Besides, wouldn't you like another chance to see your furry friends?"

Bernard groaned and shook his head. Of all the people to walk in on what had to be the most embarrassing moment of his 1384 years of life it _had_ to be Santa and Curtis. He would never live it down. Who was he kidding; they would never _let_ him live it down! He, the head elf, strung up by a blasted reindeer! And cursing like a sailor to boot. Why, just why?

Deciding to try getting out of this one last time, Bernard said, "Couldn't Curtis supervise this and give me a report afterwards? He is the number two elf you know."

Santa stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at his number one elf with a look of amusement. "Have you been playing with that machine of Curtis's? You must have, because the real Bernard would never try to pawn off work. Let's check, shall we?" He reached his hand out, presumably to grab on to some part of Bernard's anatomy to see if it was made of plastic.

The head elf irritably slapped away his boss's hand. "I'm no toy! I just think that this kind of thing isn't important enough to require my attention. I could be using this time to check over the numbers on teddy bear production, we've been down about 23 bears per hour in production this week you know."

With a groan, Santa began walking again, motioning Bernard to follow him. "That, my friend, is exactly why you need to supervise this kind of thing." When Bernard looked at him curiously, Santa clarified his statement, "You need to spend some time away from the workshop! Come on Bernard, no sane person should know the exact number of teddy bears per hour we have produced in every week since January! I would suggest a vacation, but the last one made no difference . . . I guess I should be grateful that you stopped monitoring the cookie and cocoa output of the kitchens."

While Santa entered the stables, Bernard briefly paused outside.

"19.6 gallons and approximately 126 batchs a day," he whispered to himself.

"What was that, Bernard?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all."

$%$%$%$%

Lee had just finished hitching up the last pair when her new boss's entered the barn. Today was the day the she and her team proved what they could do! Their performance dictated their ultimate fate; would they be stuck pulling a sleigh full of loose parts to and fro across the city or would they be able to _fly_.

"Good morning boss. And Bernard," she said cheerfully.

Santa smiled and returned the greeting. Bernard just scowled. Walking over to the hitched up team, the big man offered his hand for one of the animals to sniff.

Lee could have cried out in relief, _someone_ up here had at least an inkling of how to treat reindeer!

"Would you like an introduction before our demonstration," she offered.

Bernard spoke up quickly, "No, that won't be nec-"

"That would be great!" Santa interrupted.

Flashing a triumphant smirk in Bernard's general direction, Lee made her way to the back of the line-up.

"This," she said as she patted the big deer's shoulder, "is Blizzard. His partner is his twin, Avalanche. Stubborn as rocks and strong as bulls. You've already met them, haven't you Bernard." The head elf grimaced as he recalled his first meeting with the two deer and their scruffy handler.

Moving up, she rubbed the thick mane of the next animal in line. "This is Jingle, he's my oldest. Steady as a rock. And that," she pointed to Jingle's partner, "is Starflight, fast as can be, but high strung and spooky."

"Then why is she part of the team?" Bernard sneered, despite Santa's warning glare.

Speaking slowly, as if she were talking to a particularly slow four year old, Lee replied, "Because she is fast. The fastest one out of the eight. Hitched with Jingle, she behaves herself well enough."

Moving on before Bernard could make another snide, uninformed comment, she playfully boxed the next reindeer's ears. In return, he stole the floppy hat perched on her head and tossed it skyward. When it fell, it landed on the topmost prong of his antlers, far out of his handler's reach.

"This beast," she growled good naturedly, "Is Locke. As smart and devious as his namesake, I assure you. He's partnered with Storm, the only one patient enough to stand his antics." The reindeer on Locke's other side turned his head and snorted at Santa and Bernard, as if to agree with his handler's statement.

And finally, the coup de gras, her lead pair. As far as she was concerned, two finer animals could not be found north of the Arctic Circle! The near reindeer was an impressive specimen, with a rack wide enough for a person to practically sit in! He was a strong animal, physically and in his personality. As leader of the herd, he was a no brainer for a head animal. But it was the off deer that was really valuable. Not quite as impressive as his companion, but still not bad looking, he busied himself with observing everything that was going on around him with wide intelligent eyes that missed nothing.

"And now, I give you," Lee paused for added affect, "Sarge, the herd boss, and Polaris, chief navigator and smartest deer I have ever had the pleasure of training."

Santa looked over the animals and allowed an impressed whistle to escape his lips, "Nice looking boys. What farm did you say you were from again?"

"Lost Drift Farm," Lee replied with a proud smile.

"Well, if I ever need any other reindeer, I know where to go! They must have some darn good bloodlines to produce eight animals of this caliber."

Wasn't that the truth! Reindeer genetics was very unpredictable and breeding the good traits of the parents into the calves while eliminating the bad was nearly impossible. At Lost Drift Farm they had about forty animals, all with very good quality genetics. The smallest of the few reindeer farms around, but their surprising success in their breeding had made them very well known.

Now, after 500 years of training the animals, she had gotten enough money to actually purchase her team from the farm and strike out on her own. She just thanked whatever gods were out there that the farm owners had not taken too good of a look at the animals she had chosen; half the team was the best stock that had come out of the farm in over 300 years. The last one Lee could remember who even came close was a young bull who went by the name of Blitzen . . .

While Lee and Santa Claus were talking about the background of some of the team, Bernard slowly moved away, lost in his own world of thought. What did it matter if those two big monsters in the back were somehow related to Dasher and Dancer? And why the heck did the slope and length of their pasterns matter? What in the Aurora Borealis was a pastern anyway? Grumbling about wasting his time, Bernard started to stalk back towards the entrance to the stable. If he couldn't leave yet, at least he could stand in the door and watch the elves in the square as they went about doing _useful_ tasks!

A sharp jerk on the shoulder strap of his bag stopped the tall elf in his tracks. Spinning around, Bernard let out a muffled curse as he came face to antlers with the reindeer who had his muzzle stuffed into the large brown bag at Bernard's side.

"Locke!" Lee yelled. The deer in question let out a snort in acknowledgment, but did not heed his handler's call or the vain attempts being made by the other tall elf to remove his muzzle from the bag.

Sighing, Lee came over to Bernard and, rather than force the big animal's head out of the bag, grabbed the shoulder strap and slipped it over the now very angry head elf's head, dropping the bag to the floor.

"Hey!" Bernard practically roared, "what do you think you're doing?"

"He," Lee snapped, pointing at Locke who was still rooting around in the discarded bag, "isn't going to let up until he finds what he's looking for. And if you didn't want to lose an eye, that's what had to be done. If you have some weird desire to become a pirate and wear an eye patch for the rest of your life and I've just shattered you dreams, I'm deeply sorry. What have you got in that bag anyways?"

Fuming, Bernard sputtered, "Papers! Lists! Information! Timetables! Notes!"

"Your life," Lee interrupted. As Bernard's eyes seemed to widen to twice their normal size, the scruffy reindeer handler interrupted again, "No food? Cookies perhaps?"

Her question was answered when Locke withdrew his muzzle from the bag, a half crumbled cookie clutched in his teeth. With a few quick chomps, the evidence of his theft was gone.

Lee nodded sagely, "Makes sense now. Locke's a sugar cookie fiend."

As if to apologize for his improper behavior, Locke leaned down and picked up the bag in his teeth, offering it back to the tall irate elf. Too angry to even speak coherently, Bernard snatched the offering and swung it over his shoulder.

"Santa," Bernard began, "I know you said that I needed to be here to watch this, but I _really_ think that I can do much more good elsewhere. Tell me how it goes."

But as he turned to go yet again, he saw a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye and suddenly the constant weight of the floppy green hat on his head was gone. He spun back and grabbed at the hat now being held by the same mischievous reindeer. Swinging his head upward, Locke avoided Bernard's hand, keeping the hat out of reach.

As much as she was enjoying seeing Bernard jump around trying to retrieve the piece of floppy green fabric, Lee knew that Locke had crossed the line. "Locke, you let that hat go or you're going to be the path breaker for the next year!"

Knowing that his handler could, and would, go through with her threat, Locke did exactly what she asked. Flinging his head up, he let the hat go. Three sets of eyes watched the dark green cloth arc up, then come down and settle on the topmost prong of Locke's antlers, right next to Lee's own battered headpiece.

"You blasted son of a snowman!" the two elves yelled in unison, much to Santa's amusement. Lee leapt foreword and grabbed the side of his bridle, dragging Locke's head downward till his nose almost touched the ground. With his head so low the pieces of headgear resting on the reindeer's antlers were in easy reach and Bernard wasted no time in snatching them off.

As each elf was jamming their remarkably similar hats back onto their heads, Santa let out a surprised laugh and clapped his hands together.

"Whooaaah there! Impressive teamwork you two! Maybe you should work together more often."

The expressions of horror and disbelief the two elves displayed was on par with what they would have expressed had their boss suggested they dress up in pink tutus and dance around to music from the Nutcracker.

"Never, not in 10,000 years-"

"Work with him? You've got to be-"

"would I even consider collaborating with someone who-"

"out of your mind! He-"

"has no sense of respect and-"

"probably doesn't know a hock from a heartgirth and is a-"

"is an unorganized,-"

"uptight,-"

"unprofessional,-"

"insulting,-"

"insubordinate-"

"pessimistic-"

"unkempt-"

"killjoy-"

"rabble-rouser!"

"control freak!"

&*&*&*&*&

_ Well, what do you think? You like? You hate? You think I should be burned at the stake? _

_ Bernard is in for a bit of a wild ride in the next chap . . . It's so fun to torture him *evil laughter, Kefka style* Anyone who can tell me who Kefka is, and what his evil laugh sounds like will get a bit of a treat, just leave the answer in a message or signed review. Extra credit for anyone who can figure out which character in the story fits in with this whole weird Kefka reference (hint, look at some of my other fics)._


	4. Up, up, up and down, down, down

_Sigh, no one knows who Kefka is . . . Today's culture is deprived. He's a villain from the game Final Fantasy VI, probably the best game I've ever played. I'd highly recommend the GBA remake to anyone who is interested. Locke is also a character from the games (as well as the name a Norse god). Both the game character and the god are mischievous thieves._

_ I do not own the Santa Clause nor do I make any money from this fic. If either of the former were true, do you think I'd be stressing out about paying off college loans? *eyebrow twitches uncontrollably as I check out the average time it takes for someone to pay off college loans*_

&*&*&*&

Thoroughly rebuked, Santa stepped back and put his hands in the air. "Okay, okay! No need to rip my head off!" But he need not have worried. Both elves were too busy angrily glaring at each other to take notice of their mutual boss's pleas.

"Santa," Bernard growled, not once breaking eye contact with the scruffy reindeer handler, "I really must be going."

That was that. If he left now, _he _would be the one to break off the glaring contest and _he _would be in control of the situation. As is should be. He was head elf after all, and no one, especially not newcomers to the Pole whose specialties included shoveling reindeer droppings, should be challenging his authority. Yes, leaving now would put him squarely at the top of this little dispute. It was perfect. It was flawless. It would accomplish two things at once, allowing him to actually get some real work done _and_ asserting his position of command to the disheveled, annoying little flea who he could see causing a massive disturbance in his firm management of the Pole.

Unfortunately for Bernard, Lee knew _exactly_ what he was planning. And she wasn't about to give any quarter to an uptight, insulting, pessimistic, killjoy control freak!

"Not so fast!" she barked as the slightly taller elf tried to turn around to leave. Her hand shot out and grabbed a handful of his shirt, jerking Bernard to a stop. With a quick jerk and a shove, she sent Bernard spinning towards the sleigh, a rough two seater with a good bit of cargo space and enough cracks in the boards so that you could practically see through the thing. As Lee had anticipated, the force of the large elf hitting the side finally caused the weakened wood to snap, allowing Bernard to tumble right into the cargo section of the wooden death trap.

Before her victim could react, Lee grabbed a coiled whip from a hook and leapt up into the driver's seat.

While Bernard's still dizzy brain was still processing what just happened he vaguely heard Lee explaining her actions. To Santa of course, not him. No, the head elf wasn't important enough to be told he had just been bodily thrown into a sleigh by the Pole's newest arrival who obviously had a discipliary problem.

"The sleigh's too light," Lee said quickly, before Santa could interrupt and destroy her plan, "The deer behave better with a more weighted sleigh and he looks to be just about the right size I need."

With a flick of her wrist she uncoiled the whip and cracked it over her team's heads, signaling them to spring forward. Normally she would have waited until they were out of the barn before accelerating at this rate, but right now she had to get away from her boss before he started asking her obvious questions about her methods. Questions such as "Why not use a hay bale? They're easy to move and aren't likely to throw up in midair."

Speaking of throwing up . . .

"I hope you don't get airsick," Lee turned around and addressed the flabbergasted elf in the cargo department, "and you might want to get up here before these fellas lift off. No cushions in the cargo space."

For once, Bernard didn't argue, but instead clambered over the divider and into the seat beside Lee. He hated, hated, HATED flying! That's why he ALWAYS used his magic to teleport to and from places outside of the Pole, even if it was a very draining exercise. At least there wasn't any chance of falling.

"You stop these beasts right now and let me off," he snarled, "Or else I'll-

"No can do," Lee interrupted, "I stop them now and I'll have to back them all the way down the runway to get enough speed to lift off again."

The edge of the ramp was coming closer with every jingle of the reindeer's harnesses. There was no getting out of this now. Oh well, it was only a test flight, just around the Pole. And this team was young, inexperienced, definitely not able to go as fast or do the crazy make your gut twist just by watching them maneuvers that Santa's team could. They wouldn't even be going outside the ice cave! How bad could it be?

"Well, you could at least tell me where the seat belts are," Bernard grumbled.

Lee turned to him with what could only be described as an expression of pure, unadulterated evil.

"Seat belts," she snickered, "What seat belts?"

&*&*&*&*

_Flight, ah, there is nothing better than flight!_

_ Except for maybe sugar cookies._

_ Silence Locke, I was not speaking to you! As I was saying Polaris,_

_ Indeed Sarge, there is little that can compare to the joy of flight. We should attempt to put on an impressive performance today, something that will convince them to allow us to fly more often._

_ Herd! We pull out all stops today! Listen well to Lee and do not disobey. That means you Locke. _

_ Sarge, can we pick up the pace, the tall one Lee dragged aboard is sounding like he is going to be sick._

_ Aye, Blizzard and I would rather not be yaked on. We go fast enough and whatever he spews will go back in his own face, not over our haunches._

_ Well, we can't have that happening now, can we? Herd, faster!_

&*&*&*&

Lee felt the tension on the reins build as her team surged up into the sky a little faster than they normally would. Putting it off to friskiness, they hadn't flown in over a week, she allowed this quicker pace, despite the fact that it was obviously doing nothing for her passenger's stomach. How does someone become the freakin' head elf at the bloody North Pole where flying reindeer are possibly the single most important asset to the holiday of Christmas when he gets airsick at less than two hundred feet above ground? It was an outrage!

But even so, he did look kind of pathetic. Pale, eyes clamped shut, fingers digging into the edge of the seat. So, against her better judgment, Lee decided to engage Mr. Tall, Not so Pissed anymore, and Curley in conversation while she had the team circling the ice cave over the Pole to warm up. A typical trick of distracting someone with airsickness or who happened to be afraid of heights. First things first, she'd need to get him to open his eyes.

"So, where do you live?"

Ineligible muttering.

"Okay, well, what color is the roof?"

More muttering. Some cursing thrown in this time too.

"Don't you cuss me out; I'm trying to distract you. Oh wait, I know, you probably work so much that you can't even remember where you live anymore," when kindness doesn't work, always go for jibbing sarcasm, "let me rephrase the former question- where do you work?"

Mutter, mutter, curse, curse, mutter, muttered curse.

"Is it that building over there? The one with the glass dome on top? Or is it the one with the blue shingles? What the heck is that one with the ice skating rink on top anyway? Why does the Pole need an ice skating rink of a roof, there are plenty on the ground."

Mutter, mutter, research, curse, testing, mutter.

"Research and testing, hmm? So I'm guessing that must be the research and development center."

Grumble, curse, mutter, curse, curse, curse.

"What? I only got here two days ago and so far I haven't had the time to look around. Or have someone show me around. So sooory if I don't know where things are."

Silence.

"Don't tell me you up and died over there on me."

Bernard's eyes opened just a crack, sending his hate filled gaze towards the scruffy female. "You bloody abduct me and now you're trying to make small talk," he snarled, "Just do whatever the heck you need to do and get back on the ground so that I can just get away from you and your blasted spiky headed furballs as quickly as possible."

Hmm, not the kind of reaction she was hoping for. But at least his eyes were open. Step one complete. Step two, keep him occupied until he forgets why he was airsick in the first place. In a normal situation, she would do that by pointing out things they were flying over or explaining the mechanics of controlling her team in the air. But in this case, she was planning to take another, little used and highly frowned upon option.

Scare him so bad that he'll forget to be sick until his feet touch the ground.

"Alright," she said with a nasty grin, "I'll get this done and over with quickly for you."

With a twist of the reins and a shouted command Lee sent the team spiraling upwards, higher and higher, until the tops of their antlers almost touched the roof of the ice cave. She glanced over at her unwilling passenger and was very pleased to see that his eyes had remained open. They were now wide and unblinking, fixated on the miniaturized view of the Pole hundreds of feet below him.

It was too good to resist. "You want to go down?"

Bernard could only nod.

"Okay, hold onto your hat, 'cause down we go! DIVE!"

The team dropped like a stone, Sarge and Polaris angling their bodies and leading the charge down at an angle nearly perpendicular to the ground. As they raced downward, Lee heard a curious noise coming from her left. She turned her head and could not stifle the laugh that burst from her gut. The noise was Bernard, hollering a continuous stream of expletives only for them to be ripped away by the whistling wind of their earthward passage. It was a good thing she could read lips. Or maybe not so much. Most of the more explicit curses were aimed at her.

And he hadn't listened to her advice. His hat was long gone, probably floating some ways above their heads on a one way trip into a snow bank below. Not that hers had fared much better, with the distraction of her passenger she had neglected to remove her headpiece and place it safely in her pocket. Dang it, and she had _liked_ that hat too!

&*&*&*&

It was all Bernard could do **not** to scream like a scared little child throughout that entire ride from hell. Cursing helped. Cursing helped A LOT. Snowdrifts and icicles, he never cursed this much before she came around! A bad influence, that's what she was. And when he got down, he was certain to tell Santa his findings and get her OUT OF HERE! But first, he had to survive . . .

The team twisted and turned at every subtle flick of their handler's reins, nearly throwing the passengers out of the wooden death trap they pulled with every sharp turn they took. That, and the sudden altitude changes gave Bernard the feeling he imagined one would get when they rode a roller coaster. Except roller coasters had tracks underneath them, cars that didn't threaten to bust a seam to send its passengers hurtling to the ground, and most importantly, SAFETY HARNESSES!

By the Aurora Borealis, there had to be SOMETHING in the handbook against this!

After one final mid-air maneuver Lee directed the team to land in the square, literally feet in front of Santa's nose. No sooner had the sleigh runners hit the ground than Bernard was out, hunched over with his hands on his knees and his eyes jammed tightly shut. Ignoring the disbelieving looks she received from, well, everyone, Lee calmly exited the wooden death trap and stood in front of the pale, heaving head elf.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" she said with a twisted smirk.

For an answer, Bernard's stomach finally gave in and relieved itself of this morning's breakfast. Right over her boots.

&*&*&*&

_Hunh, had a tough time putting this one out there. Don't think it was quite as funny as my others, but I feel it had to be done. _


End file.
